BLOOD AND FIRE

Vaelspire Keep, The Forbidden Vault

The Vault doors groaned open, revealing shelves lined with tomes bound in skin and bone. All the ancient and forbidden books of the old were stored and recorded there. Books with knowledge too ancient, too powerful, and useful to their enemies were stored here.

Alaric stepped inside, torch in hand, his eyes scanning until they found the one he needed. It read, Bloodborne Bonds: Curses, Hybrids, and Abominations.

He flipped through the pages, stopping when he saw an illustration that made his heart freeze.

Born of the Human, Turned to the Beast.

‘The humans who played with the black magic, in their quest for the ultimate power, ingested a potion concocted from the depths of darkness that turned their bodies into an abomination. Neither man nor wolf for the rest of eternity. Their blood echoes both, but is claimed by neither.’

“Thus, they are cursed to wander the earth with no sense of self. Their sole purpose was in the ripping of bones, splitting of limbs, and the shredding of skin. An unstoppable force of pure evil that can only be destroyed with black magic. They are the Hybrids.”

Alaric closed the book slowly.

News of Hybrid sightings had begun circulating from the watchers of the wall. And their numbers were escalating by the day.

                                                                              ,,,

IRONHOLD- COUNCILMAN INNER CHAMBERS

“She's cannot be trusted,” said Councilman Derrick, pacing before the fire. “She lost five of our most skilled hunters to a mere werewolf attack.”

“Hybrid,” Vex Marron corrected smoothly, sipping from a black chalice. “She and the surviving hunters claimed to have seen alchemical mutations on the beasts that attacked them.”

“She’s a liability,” Derrick hissed. “ And you know it. She brought upon us a war we are not prepared for.”

Vex smiled. 

“What?” Derrick questioned.

“This is our chance to completely dispose of those rancid animals. While they’re howling around in grief over their lost Princess, we come at them and destroy them.”

"You mean..." Derrick paled.

"Yes," Vex Marron grinned.

“What if the plan doesn’t work?”

“Then we'll go with yours." He handed Derrick two sealed letters, "Ensure you give this to Yulia and Dumfrey. Tell them to hurry, there is no time."

                                                                             ,,,

That night, Seraphine paced in her quarters, still wearing her bloodied armor. Her hands shook, from exhaustion and from the itch. The way her skin crawled beneath the surface. The way her senses buzzed unnaturally.

Then she froze.

A letter lay on her cot bed..

She checked the door. It was latched; no one had entered.

She picked up a letter. Unsealed the unfamiliar marking.

Four words: You have been summoned.

There was no signature.

Only a drop of black blood stained the bottom of the parchment.

 

Vaelspire Keep In The Arena

Alaric stood beneath the open sky, surrounded by warriors in a circle of black sand. Before him was a feral, corrupted hybrid captured from the Outcast Packs. Over nine feet tall. Foaming at the mouth. Stripped of sanity.

It was a test.

If Alaric could not control the Red Haze, the Elders would demand he step down. It was a test that had taken place for centuries. Every male of the Vaelthorn bloodline was subjected to it. As great power comes great burdens. The chances of entering the red haze were ten times intensified in the pureblood Vaelthorn males, most especially in the unbound males.

The beast lunged.

Alaric didn’t move until the last second.

He dodged, slid behind, and slashed its Achilles tendon. The creature roared, and swiped wildly at Alaric, its claws raking his chest. Blood sprayed the sand.

Alaric fell to one knee.

Then his wolf exploded out of him, but not completely, giving him the form of a man but the skin of the night beast, and the shadows wrapped his form.

His claws grew longer, blacker. His eyes burned with a wild flame.

He caught the beast’s throat in one hand and ripped its lungs free from the body in one brutal tug.

Crimson rained down on his head and bathed his face, drenching him in the awful liquid, but it did nothing to quell the swelling rage within him.

The arena went silent.

Alaric's eyes glowed unblinking at the crowd, his face an empty canvas of crimson all over.

Whispers echoed through the watching crowd, and then loud cheers broke out as the crowd hailed and roared his victory.

THE NEXT NIGHT…

For Humankind and Werekind, the border between peace and war was always razor-thin, and tonight, Alaric Vaelthorn walked it.

He crouched beneath the ancient pines of the Hollowmere Pass, a cloak of mist curling at his boots. The wind carried the scent of the cold and rotten smell of human flesh, but beneath it was a scent so sharp his eyes glowed.

The Murderer.

His wolf screamed to break loose and wreak havoc as the memory of Elyra’s torn body bombarded his senses.

Time for revenge, Elyra.

                                                                            ,,,

He clenched his jaw, gripping the hilt of the ceremonial blade strapped to his back. Not the war-forged claymore he usually carried, but a dagger forged with his ancestors’ bone. The kind used for executions.

He stopped suddenly, “Think you can stop me, Nightshade?”

Riven Nightshade emerged from the shadows to stand beside him. His jaw clenched. Riven was his closest ally and the chief of the Vaelthorn army. He was connected to him in a way his uncle and other werewolves would never understand. His black eyes gleamed with disapproval.

“This isn’t wise.” he stated flatly.

“No,” Alaric replied, voice steel. “But it is necessary.”

“Do I stay close?”

“No. If I fall, I fall alone.”

Riven’s frown deepened. “As you wish, my Lord.”

He stepped back into the shadows.

                                                                           ,,,

The camp sat in the hollowed ruins of a once-human chapel, an old Guild outpost. It was turned into neutral ground. At its heart, surrounded by torch-bearing guards and silver-lined warding stones, she stood.

Seraphine Duskbane.

She wore a leather armor scuffed by battle, her black hair pulled back into a braid that gleamed like obsidian in the firelight. A dagger hung from her hip, one hand resting casually on its hilt, but her stance wasn’t relaxed.

He had come for her, and she was ready to kill. Screw the Council, she had no intention of waiting for a war. She would bring the war to those beasts. The beasts that massacred her entire family.

Her eyes flicked up as he approached.

And for one breathless second, the world... stopped.

Her gaze locked with his. Unflinching. Cold.

His chest cracked open like stone beneath a chisel. The wave slammed into him full-force, raw, violent, demanding. His wolf rose in his throat, howling for recognition, howling with a need he couldn’t place, so he shoved it down his chest.

Seraphine looked at the Wolf Prince and scoffed, then almost as though under some sort of spell, her eyes drew to his, and she froze.

His eyes were the same pair of eyes that haunted her dreams.